


No more Mr. Nice Guy

by AngelaChristian



Series: Steven [3]
Category: Alice Cooper (Musician) - Fandom
Genre: Alice Cooper - Freeform, F/M, Murder, Steven - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:36:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelaChristian/pseuds/AngelaChristian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steven becomes mean... he can't take "no" for an answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No more Mr. Nice Guy

Header

Title : No more Mr. Nice Guy  
Rating : 16  
Genre : songfic, tragedy, crime story  
Warning: sexual harassment  
Beta : di_glossia, thanks !  
Disclaimer: This songfic is based on along came a spider by Alice Cooper, I don't make money with it.  
Summary : Steven can't take "no" for an answer.

No More Mr. Nice Guy

Blood was everywhere. It was smeared on his face, splattered across his clothes, soaking his hair and dripping from the walls. He blinked his eyes, like he had just woken up from a dream. On the bed in that hotel room was the body of a dead woman. One leg had deep cuts as if somebody had tried to separate it from the body. The knife in his hand was smeared with blood.

Outside the dark room, he heard upset voices talking, police sirens wailing. Blue light was reflected by the mirror. Steven was sitting on the floor, paralyzed, staring at the knife. He heard approaching footsteps, then knocking at the door.

Policeman, yelling: Police, open the door!

He didn’t answer.

There were sounds like the police was picking the lock. Then the door swung open.

Policeman 1: Oh my God, what happened in here? It looks like a slaughterhouse.

Policeman 2 at Steven who was crouching on the floor: Drop the knife and put your hands where I can see them.

Steven slowly lifted his hands.

Policeman 1: I can’t believe it; do you know who that is? That’s Steven Davis, the Broadway star!

Steven, crying: I’m sorry.

 

At the theater that morning

Nora was in the dressing room when Steven entered. The room was stuffed with costumes hanging on reels and props, hats and wigs being stored on shelves. There was a single dressing table in front of a large vanity mirror and some pots with make up lying on it.

Steven, really crushed: Nora, I’m sorry about what happened at my apartment. Please stop ignoring me. I miss you.

Nora, cold: No, Steven, don’t give me those puppy dog eyes; that won’t change my mind. I don’t want to see you again. Please leave me alone.

Steven confused: You can’t do that to me.

Nora: Sure, I can. Now leave me alone, I gotta get dressed for the rehearsal.

Suddenly, Steven grabbed her arm and gave her an angry look.

Nora, looking at him with shock and surprise: Let me go!

Adult voice in Steven’s head: Don’t let her go, show her that she’s got nothing to demand from you. Punish her!

Steven tightened his grip: Don’t treat me like that, you bitch!

Nora tried to pull her arm away but Steven raised his free hand and slapped her face hard. Nora’s head swung back from the force of the impact.

Steven used the moment of surprise to grab her by the shoulders and push her backwards against the dressing table. Then he pulled her by the hair and forced her to kiss him. Nora screamed when she could turn her head away. He put his hand over her mouth and pulled at her t-shirt. Nora moved and kicked, trying to fight him off. Using the weight his body weight, he held her, pushed against the table and forced her to sit down. Then he pulled her leg up and grabbed her short skirt. Nora was still kicking out at him and trying to free her leg from his grip. She screamed again and again. Steven slapped her face. Suddenly the door swung open and a group of girls rushed in.

Steven froze and Nora started to cry.

Girl 1, shocked: No, I can’t believe that.

Girl 2: Steven, you’re a pig! I won’t dance with you ever again.

Girl 3: Don’t move, I’ll call the boss right now.

She left the room and ran down the corridor. Minutes later, she returned with the manager of the ensemble. Nora was still crying as the other girls tried to calm her.

Manager with a surprised look at the scene and Nora’s torn shirt: Steven, what have you done to her???

Steven, very quiet: I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to happen. I lost control.

Manager, angry: Leave the theater at once! You’re fired! I can’t use guys like you, who can’t keep their hands off the girls!

Steven: But what about the show?

Manager: We’ll find somebody new.

Steven left the room, banging the door shut.

Manager: He should be happy that I’m not calling the Police.

Then everything turned black in Steven’s head.

 

The following night at a hospital

Steven lay trembling on a cot in a hospital. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a doctor in a lab coat and a policeman standing next to him. He tried to move, but couldn’t because his hands were strapped to the bed frame.

Doctor: Hello, Mr. Davis, do you know where you are?

 

Steven: No.  
Doctor: You are in the Sacred Heart h  
Hospital. Can you tell me what you remember?

Steven, sounding very weak: I don’t know. I went to work like every morning, but I can’t remember anything. I feel so tired and exhausted. Why are my hands tied down?

Doctor: You had a nervous breakdown this evening and we had to calm you by giving you some medicine.

Steven: Why did that happen? And why are the voices suddenly gone?

Doctor: We’ll tell you about that later. First, you need to sleep for a while and get some rest. Do you want to tell us something about those voices? Maybe later, okay?

Steven, sleepy: Yes, I’m so tired.

The doctor and the policeman left the room.

In the corridor, they started to talk about Steven.

Policeman: This man has brutally murdered a prostitute and now he’s as gentle as a baby. I don’t understand that.

Doctor: It’s the medicine we gave him, but I think he’s a very dangerous man when he loses control over his rage. It’s not my job to make decisions about being guilty or not, but about sanity. I recommend treating him in a mental hospital for a while and then we’ll see whether he can be transferred to a normal prison at all. I think he should be kept in a mental hospital for the rest of his life. It sounds harsh, when talking about a person that young, but if he had been treated earlier, this might never have happened.

Policeman: He’d probably get a life sentence , if he’ll ever recover.

Present time in a mental hospital

Steven was sitting in the hospital community room, painting a picture. A nurse had a look at it.

Nurse: Oh, Steven seems to be having a good day. He’s painting flowers, not chopped-up corpses.

Steven: Yes, today I don’t feel the urge to hurt somebody, but it may come back soon.

Nurse: But the doctors told you what to do when that happens, right?

Steven: Yes, I’ll write it all down into my diary and talk to Dr. Mayer about it.

Nurse: Fine. And if the voices get too loud, the medicine will keep them quiet for you.

Steven: I wonder who she really was.

Nurse: Who “who” was?

Steven: Gail, the woman I killed. I think I liked her somehow. It makes me sad that she’s gone. I wonder what she thought of me.

Nurse: You remember her?

Steven, with tears coming to his eyes: I liked her, but I killed her. This makes me feel a pain that will never go away. It wasn’t her fault, but mine.

The nurse put her arms around him and pets his head.

Nurse: It’s okay, Steven, just cry a little: it’ll make you feel better.

The End


End file.
